For What It Means
by Europe28
Summary: She lifted her dark irises to meet his, the man smiled nervously, she didn't even know his name yet here they were. Murders ripping through London with one thing connecting them. Holmes.
1. Chapter 1

_Please Review. I know the punctuation might not be too good, but I'd like to give my Beta reader a bit of a break. I've done my best and will probably do a catch up soon. Thanks. _

Chapter 1

She lifted her dark irises to meet his, the man smiled nervously, she didn't even know his name yet here they were; an empty slum in Soho stripping each other to the flesh, ecstasy running through their bodies with the pulsing movements that felt so fluent and timed they were almost one for that one brief moment in history. Her heart pounded heavily against her chest calling out to him, screaming to him. "Faster" she moaned, her wet lips tracing his neck like a parched cat. He succumbed to her needs the pulse racing faster, her mother's warning words danced over her mind but were soon out of sight; if he only wanted one thing then she'd still give it to him. "Jane" her own name fell softly from his mouth, as she pulled him down above her, meeting their lips in one solid movement.

"Looky here." Jane lifted her head, two dirty looking boys were peering at her and her companion; embarrassed she pulled on her dress quickly struggling to tie up the laces at the back. This was so much more easier with a maid. She felt two strong hands assist her. Her companion had finally awoken, and pulled his gun from a pocket in his coat. The two boys flinched and fell back at the sight of the pistol shining in the early morning light, emerging behind Big Ben. "We weren't doin' anything mister" begged the younger looking one, sharing a panicked look with his friend who looked equally afraid. He tilted his head to one side, motioning for them to go and be quick about it; they gratefully took his gesture, vanishing behind nearest ally.

"We'd better get moving" he smiled, giving her a smile as he adjusted the belt of his trousers. Even dressed he appeared the finest man in London, his young eyes twinkled with excitement as he took her hand and led her into the morning, laughing loudly as he did so, "Marry me Jane?" he smiled, kissing her lips gently, Jane laughed back, what would her friends think, married before some of them were even out of nanny's care. "I don't even know your name" she admitted, fixing her hazel eyes on his deep blue ones, he laughed again, then bowed "Sherlock Holmes my good lady," Jane couldn't help to suppress her giggle, he pretended to look hurt, "What a name" Jane smiled closing the space between them with a kiss "and yes, yes I will marry you Mr Holmes."

Holmes awoke with a start, sweat pouring from his brow. "Watson!" He heard himself shout, clawing helplessly at the covers, "Watson!" He pulled himself together long enough to remember: Watson had moved out three months ago with his new wife, changing tactics in a split second he began shouting "Mrs Hudson!" His landlady and house keeper had soon arrived at his door. "What is it Mr Holmes?" He sat up in bed uncertainty, before spreading his mouth into a grin, "nothing." Mrs Hudson threw her arms up in despair before disappearing back down to the kitchen. "Nightmare" Holmes assured himself, squeezing his eyes tightly shut to try and rid himself of the nausea that now swept over him. "Mrs Hudson!" He called, ringing the bell impatiently that led to the kitchen, he'd given her just enough time to get there. "Mr Holmes!?" She appeared again at the door, a nerve in her forehead pulsing. "Get a boy to take a note to Watson" he told her, passing her a quickly scribbled note, she took it and left again.

Holmes got to his feet, moving clumsily across the cluttered untidy room to the nearest desk, pulling strange chemicals and bits of machinery with him as he went.

When Watson arrived in the room, with the messenger boy, Holms was attempting to send an electric wave through a part of his brain, his hair was already standing on end more than usual. "What in Her majesty's name are you doing!?" Watson demanded, as per normal Holms didn't explain except for those hurried ones of assurance "I'll be fine Watson, pay the nice boy would you." Watson and the boy watched agape as Holms flicked the lever on his desk, he shook slightly for a moment his hands gripping to the arms of his chair, before going perfectly still. "Is he dead sir?" The boy asked, worry in his voice, "no" Watson sighed, picking his way over the unconscious dog, that had no doubt as usual suffered Holms' latest experiment first. He took his friend by the shoulder and gave him a small shake, Holmes groaned and opened his eyes, "I think that did it" he nodded at Watson, getting to his feet slowly.

"How did you do that sir?" The boy asked, excitement fresh in his voice, Watson gave them both disapproving looks. "I set the pitch of electricity to match the very same wave length which I wanted to sort out" Holmes grinned, glad that for once someone in the room was actually interested in his work, "with no lasting effects" he finished, making to move only to fall over instead, Watson rolled his eyes, pulling him to his feet. The boy laughed, Holmes smiled, passing him a fair amount of coins definitely a heavy tip, the boy nodded his thanks and ran back down the stairs, he and Watson soon heard the door close behind him. "Nice boy" Holmes commented, turning back to Watson. "Please don't tell me you just called me here to talk too?" Watson sighed, collapsing into a reasonably clear armchair, Holmes pulled a face, Watson hid his head in his hands. "So I leave Mary this morning after promising her we'd have tea at her parent's because you send me a note saying you feel desperately ill, and find out you only want a talk!" Watson snapped, getting back to his feet,

"Not entirely" Holmes assured him "I am feeling unwell that's what I want to talk to you about," Watson sat back down a look of worry and guilt passing his features.

"What's wrong then?" Watson asked quite softly for him, after Mrs Hudson had brought them tea. "Nightmares actually" Holmes sighed, massaging his temple with one hand, "I've tried gypsy rituals, sleeping pills, electric shocks…."

"So that's what that was" Watson interrupted, Holmes gave him a look, Watson fell silent again. "and electric shocks" Holmes carried on "but they keep coming back, the same place, the same people, the same events." Watson faintly heard Holmes mutter something that sounded like "five years" and heisted a guess, "did anything happen around this time, a few years ago maybe?"

"maybe" his friend nodded, again dodging a straight answer, Watson sighed inwardly he obviously wasn't going to get anything from Holmes himself. "How strong are the sleeping pills you've been taking?"

"don't know" Holmes shrugged "but the lady on the street I bought it from said it was enough to knock out a horse," he passed Watson the container of small pills. Watson sniffed them curiously, retracting quickly "they could knock out an elephant let alone a horse!"

"Well then what should I do?" Holmes begged, giving Watson a desperate look that his friend had never seen him show before. "Are they that bad?" Watson asked, pulling out his medical bag, then he paused "how long have you been in here?"

Holmes looked shifty then asked "when did we last go somewhere together?"

"My wedding…Three months ago" Watson reminded him,

"That's right" Holmes remembered "I was best man?" Watson nodded, remembering how displeased Mary had been about that. "Well then" Holmes shrugged "must have been about three months ago."

"I'm fine Watson really!" Holmes begged, clinging to his front door,

"no your not" Watson told him "you need to get out more, I've told you this before." Watson finally succeeded in pulling Holmes into the street, "this is bad for my health" Holmes told him, "as your Doctor and friend I can assure you it will do you the world of good," It seemed Holmes had given up his break back to the house and was now walking along side Watson without having to be dragged. "Where are we going?" He now sounded interested, his eyes darting around as usual, most likely sussing out who was cheating on who, who was gambling where, what unlikely figures had done what and so on. "I'm making it up to Mary and giving you another chance with getting on with her" Watson looked proud of himself, Holmes groaned. "Come on," Watson gave a small smile "it will probably be the first proper meal you've had in three months."

Holmes and Mary sat opposite each other at the table, Watson between them. Holmes played gingerly with the end of his fork, examining the room and people around him. Mary threw glares at him and Watson every now and then before settling into a chat with Watson. "So how were your parents?" Watson checked,

"They were fine, a little disappointed about missing you dear but there's always next time" Mary smiled, Watson gave her a quick peck on the hand in silent thank you for forgiving him. Holmes yawned, it was only then that Watson realised he'd been listening in on their conversation. Watson glared at him, the tension only being broken by the arrival of dinner. They ate in silence neither making much effort to talk to the other.

A scream sounded from outside, a young woman in her early twenties ran into the restaurant. "My friend! Help!" Holmes was on his feet in an instant, pretty much skimming the tables as he ran. He wouldn't follow him, he wouldn't, Watson felt himself repeating this to himself even after he'd taken after Holmes, leaving Mary to enjoy the rest of her meal alone. Once outside he bent down beside the injured girl, pulling his handkerchief out and holding it to her head. "It's not to bad" he told her friend "she's just a little stunned," the other girl nodded thankfully. Holmes had returned mere minuets later, the injured girls handbag to hand. "Sorry about that young lady" he smiled, handing it back to her. "Holmes" the girl smiled suddenly recognising him, "haven't you grown Alice" Holmes noted, helping her up. Holmes suddenly remembered Watson, "Watson this is Alice, I'm friends with her parents, haven't seen her in a while, and Alice this is Watson my loyal friend and Doctor." The two nodded politely at each other.

"Good of you to join me" Mary's voice was cold when they returned,

"my dear lady I can assure you we were doing another young lady a greater good" Holmes addressed her for the first time all evening, Mary's eyes narrowed into slits at him. "Me and Mary will be going now" Watson got to his feet after paying the bill, trying to signal to Holmes to back off quietly, unfortunately Holmes was never very good at that. "I mean were you a young lady I'd rush to your needs too," Mary chucked her glass of wine at him, soaking him completely; he suspected if had they not been in such a busy place she probably would of hit him. "Young!?" She demanded, "how old do I look!?" Watson saw Holmes had noticed his slip,

"obviously not as old as you actually are" he tried, This time Mary did slap him, Watson placed a cautious hand on her back and led her slowly out. Holmes watched them go, then got to his own feet.

"Have I done something wrong!?" Jane demanded, tears streaking her face, her hair matted and eyes bagged with stress. Holmes shrugged, lifting his pipe to his lips. "What ever makes you think that?" He asked, his calm voicing causing her to shiver with more tears. "You lock yourself away in this room constantly, we never go out to dinner anymore, you don't sleep in our bed, we can't even talk!" Jane's voice shook as she listed her accusations, "we're talking now" Holmes pointed out, in a way he thought reasonably enough. "What happened to the way we used to talk and make love?" Jane asked, staring her husband right in the eye, "look at me and tell me you love me" she begged. Holmes sighed, they'd been married five years and still neither had broken out of their twenties, it was true he'd loved her when they'd first met and a little after that, but if he was honest there had been more fun in the chase than there was in the capture. Holmes' silence was not answered well by Jane, "Well what now!?" She sobbed, "a divorce!? Or maybe you'll murder me and hide me away like what happens in those mysteries your always going off with? Why can't we go solve these mysteries together?" Holmes groaned, he hated these conversations,

"I want another guy to help me with those, you know a friend or something, I can't limit my social life to just you."

He didn't open his eyes straight away this time, although this nightmare had been less graphic it frightened him more than any of the others. He became acutely aware of someone knocking on the door, "Holmes!?"

"Come in Watson" he called, sitting up straight in the chair he'd fallen asleep in. His first thoughts when he saw Watson were how unlike Watson he looked; he looked exhausted, his hair almost as bad his and he kept wincing like he had a headache of some sorts. Watson knew his friend well enough to know he hadn't missed these things but chose not to bring them up. "They've found a body down by the butchers,"

"any idea whose?" Holmes began tying his shoes, Watson paused lightly, unsure whether to fill this bit in. "…Your friend's daughter, Alice, the one we helped last night," Holmes' face seemed in momentary shock for a few brief seconds, but it quickly passed, "oh dear" he sighed.

The body was indeed a terrible sight, the moving conveyor that moved the swine along to be burnt and minced had come to a stand still with the corps that jammed the way. The only means of identification they'd found to suggest who she was, was the handbag as so many knew it to of been the one retrieved by Holmes the previous night. "Any idea when it was done?" Holmes asked, turning to Watson, who bent slightly over the body. "About five past twelve last night," Holmes blinked, he was in shock, but not so much as not to be amazed, "how?" He began,

"Her watch shattered in the grinder, it's set at five past twelve" Watson explained. Holmes nodded, allowing his eyes to gather pace round the room. "They were in a rush" Holmes nodded, it was Watson's turn to look amazed, "that glass next to the lever it's positioning shows that the murderer knocked it off as they turned…And look," Holmes bent down amongst the glass, pulling out a sheet. Watson saw him go slightly pale as he read, a nauseating look crossing his eyes, "Five years, Five deaths" he read. "What does it mean Holmes?" Watson asked, peering over his shoulder, to see it for himself. "So then Watson what can you tell from this scene about our murderer?" Holmes asked, dodging the question, Watson stumbled looking round. "They don't like to watch, or do it themselves?" He suggested,

"good guessing" Holmes nodded "but also look at the method; did she die slowly or quickly?"

"Slowly" Watson nodded "so our murderer wanted the victim to suffer before hand?" Holmes nodded, grinning now.

"How's Mary?" Holmes asked slowly, as Watson studied the body, trying to cut it from the jaws of the razor that had sliced through her skin without doing the evidence to much damage. "She's fine, why do you ask?" Watson's voice trembled slightly as he spoke, Holmes nodded, for once realising that he shouldn't press it. "The flames didn't kill her, though they left her unrecognisably burnt and hairless…" Holmes closed his eyes in disgust, not wanting to picture the young girl he'd helped just the other day screaming for a life that was soon to end. "…The Razors finished her off" Watson continued, examining the blades and levels of blood. "It jammed" Holmes sighed, letting out a deep outtake of breath, "she felt the razors cut through her until she was almost half way."

"I'd better be getting back to Mary" Watson sighed when they arrived back at the house, Holmes looked up, "What? Not even going to let me invite you in?"

"I can't" Watson explained,

"But we're solving a case?" Holmes stammered, he'd never been left on his own after a dead body before. "I'll come round early tomorrow" Watson promised, starting back down the steps. Holmes sighed checking the newspaper on the floor of his hall, then froze.

"Watson!" He yelled, rushing from the door and pretty much shoving his friend into the house and slamming the door. "Really Holmes enough is enough!" Watson snapped,

"look!" Holmes ignored him, flinging the paper in his face, Watson straightened it out and read: "Young girl missing, light brown hair, blue eyes, last seen three days ago," Watson studied the picture, "but that's!?"

"I know" Holmes nodded solemnly, glancing at the black and white image of Alice's face,

"but we saw her yesterday!" Watson stammered,

"exactly" Holmes sighed, running a hand through his dark hair, a daunting look spreading across his face. "That other girl I didn't get a look at her what did she look like!?"

"I don't know!" Watson jabbered, sounding slightly hysterical "dark hair…I don't know it was dark!" Holmes seized him by the shoulders,

"remember!" He pressed, Watson felt his friend's nails digging into his shirt,

"She had dark hair, that's all I can remember, and pierced ears." Holmes dropped his grip, panting with a mad sort of look. "That's our murderer"

"who is she?" Watson asked, without another word, Holmes pushed him out the door, back into the street.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Surprising himself, Holmes went himself to his friend's house to report their daughter's death. Her mother broke down in tears, having to be led away by a maid, her father just sat down staring at the opposite wall. "Are you sure?" He asked finally,

"definitely" Holmes nodded, "I'm sorry Edward," his friend shook him off.

"You're a detective! Why didn't you find her!?" He snapped, Holmes sighed,

"I didn't know she was missing, you see I haven't been out or checked my paper in a few months" Holmes sighed, Edward brought his head to his hands.

"Thank you" he whispered,

"for what?" Holmes turned, unsure if he'd heard his friend right,

"Thanks for finding her" Edward added,

"and I'll find her killer" Holmes promised, nodding to his old friend before he left, "good to see you again."

When Holmes returned to his house it was to find the young messenger, he'd sent to Watson what seemed a life time ago, sitting in his kitchen with Miss Hudson eating scones. He opened his mouth a split second as though he was going to say something, caught Miss Hudson's eye and closed it. Proceeding up the stairs in silence.

"He's upstairs," Holmes heard the young messenger's voice pipe up happily, someone muttered a word of thanks and he heard footsteps on the stairs. Watson opened the door cautiously. "How'd it go?" he asked, in reply Holmes pulled out his violin and let out a melancholy note. Watson sat down in the chair opposite, Holmes looked up at him; he looked like he'd had more sleep last night and had combed his hair before leaving. Watson smiled weakly, "I saw that boy downstairs are you adopting him or something?" Holmes caught his friend's smile and laughed, "if Miss Hudson has her way we probably will be," the two smiled at the though of a child running around in Holmes' house.

"Five deaths" Holmes nodded, after they'd turned back to the subject of the murder, "it's our job to stop the last four,"

"how are we going to manage that?" Watson asked, peering hesitantly out of the window at the quickly darkening sky, Holmes knew what he was thinking. "If you need to get back, I can understand," but Watson shook his head,

"no, your right we need to stop those next four murders" he nodded, Holmes smiled, he couldn't help feeling proud of himself, "lets get to work then."

The two of them worked long into the next morning; drawing out graphs and diagrams seeing if they could predict when the next was to take place, this was difficult considering they had nothing to compare it too.

When Miss Hudson came in later that morning to serve breakfast it was to discover both men sound asleep: Watson in his old chair and Holmes at his desk. "Are they asleep ma'am?" The messenger boy appeared round the corner, "I think so James" she nodded,

"so that's his name?" Holmes murmured, twitching slightly, before opening his eyes. "Is he staying?" Miss Hudson fixed him with a glare,

"If you'll let me sir?" James asked hopefully, Holmes had already surveyed Miss Hudson had bought the boy new clothes. "What about your family?" Holmes yawned, sitting up, glancing quickly at Watson who still slept on. "I'm an Orphan sir, me mum died giving birth to my little brother, he died too, and me dad died in an accident at the factory,"

"I don't see why not then" Holmes stretched, "he's your responsibility Miss Hudson," She beamed "Oh thank you Mr Holmes" she thanked him, hurrying James from the room to leave Holmes to get up in peace.

Holmes glanced again at Watson, a small smile playing across his mouth. He reached steadily for a pen, then crept silently behind his friend's chair. He reached over to twitch the pen just in front of Watson's face, Watson swatted it away in his sleep, Holmes kept this up until Watson's eyes began to groggily open, he retracted the pen quickly allowing his friend a moment then bellowed, "WATSON!" Watson jumped with so much shock he fell out of his chair, Holmes burst out laughing. "Very funny Holmes," Watson got back to his feet looking annoyed, then he remembered. "Probably should be getting back to Mary" he sighed, reaching for his coat and hat, Holmes nodded slowly letting Watson pass him into the hall, besides he should probably pay a visit to his friends too.

Holmes knocked half heartedly on the door, he was never very good at inviting himself round to people's houses without a reason. The door was opened by the maid who'd opened it yesterday, "I'm sorry Mr Holmes, Mr Fredricks is out" she apologised, then couldn't help adding "The misses thinks he's gone on a booze." Holmes nodded, after all he saw it as perfectly reasonable, he'd just lost his daughter and was cooped up in the house with his wailing wife, as if to reinforce this fact a loud wail came from the top of the house, "I should be getting back to her" the maid nodded "would you like to come in and wait?"

"No, no I'll be fine" Holmes smiled, turning on his heel hearing the door close behind him.

Holmes returned to the house feeling rather down in spirits, it was strange not having Watson in the house, he still found that after all this time. James took his coat for him, standing on tip toe to reach the hanger. "Are you on a detective mystery?" he asked excitedly,

"sort of" Holmes smiled, leaning heavily against the wall,

"the nice lady who used to live in the slum with us taught me to read, I always used to read your stories in the paper when I could find one" James beamed "your friend Mr Watson wrote them,"

"yes I know" Holmes smiled, feeling a little better.

"Miss Hudson let me read the newest one about you investigating that girl's death," Holmes groaned not wanting to be reminded of that. "What about that necklace trapped in the contraption was that hers?"

"What?" Holmes stood up straight again, looking the young boy in the eye. James looked a little nervous at this, "in the photo" he stammered "there was a necklace just below that cutter thing, in the clogs," Holmes gave a whoop of laughter.

"Come on" he pulled his coat back off the hanger,

"where are we going?" James asked, the excitement in his voice returning,

"we're going to solve a mystery."

The factory still hadn't been opened up, because of a worker strike in the area, so everything was just as he'd left it. "Where was this necklace?" He turned to James, James pointed at a small opening in the ground, near the cutter, where you could see into the machinery of the factory, sure enough a gold glint was trapped amongst it. Holmes bent down carefully, "turn the machine off" he told James, the last thing he wanted was his hand to be cut off the moment the machine restarted, "It's off" he heard James call, Holmes nodded to show he'd got the message and reached his hand inside the clogs, moving the piece of jewellery round trying to set it free, finally he succeeded, holding it up for James to see. "That's really pretty sir" James eyed the gems inside in amazement.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Holmes saw James back to the house before he pressed on for Watson's house. He knocked on the door, it was answered moments later by a butler (Watson had married into a rich family). "Is Watson in?" Holmes asked impatiently,

"I'll go and get him, who may I ask is calling?"

"Sherlock Holmes," a daunting 'oh' appeared on the butlers face,

"Mr Holmes, the detective?"

"yes, yes" Holmes sighed, trying to hurry him along, the butler nodded quickly and raced back inside the house. Holmes tapped his foot impatiently, looking around the front door step. A small piece of pottery caught his eye, only a tiny amount as thought the rest had been cleared up in a hurry, he looked up, it was just below one of the windows.

"Holmes?" Watson appeared at the door, Holmes hurriedly placed the pottery inside his back pocket. "Our murder has a purpose to all these killings," he pulled the necklace from inside his coat "This was Alice's she wasn't robbed after her killing, meaning who ever it is wouldn't need the value of this necklace, which is a lot let me tell you" Holmes spoke quickly, jiggering up and down on the spot. "So we're looking for a wife of a gentlemen?" Watson didn't sound like he believed it. "Who said she was married?" Holmes checked,

"nobody" Watson retracted "I just assumed"

"look at it this way" Holmes pulled the first example off his head, "Mary was wealthy even before you married her right?"

"right," Watson looked at his feet, tightening his hands into fists at his sides.

"Watson are you okay?" Holmes could not keep this question back any longer,

"fine" Watson's voice was sharp as he spoke, "so the girl's wealthy" Watson changed the subject, reminding Holmes a lot of himself, Mary was right about one thing; he was a bad example.

"Where did you find the necklace?" Watson asked, as he hurried down the street after Holmes to the waiting carriage. "The boy, Miss Hudson has taken under her wing, James found it for me"

"smart boy" Watson nodded, "of course though, her friend might not of killed her, it could have been a man who overpowered them both?"

"could have been, but wasn't" Holmes shook his head, reminding Watson of the note they'd found. "Is there something your not telling me?" Watson asked,

"the questune is: is there something you're not telling me?" Holmes paused at his front door. Watson fixed him with a confused look. "Oh come on" Holmes sighed "I'm not a detective for nothing!" Watson pushed past him into the house. Holmes tutted and followed him in.

"Can I take your coat sir?" James appeared at the door,

"No!" Watson snapped at him, storming up the stairs. James looked shocked as Holmes passed him his own coat. "Don't worry about it, he's just upset" Holmes assured the boy "and he's always in a bad mood."

Holmes hurried up the stairs after him. "There was no need to be rude to the boy Watson" Holmes told him, when the door had been closed. "Oh shut up Holmes!" Watson growled, he had rings under his eyes again, and kept stretching as though he was uncomftible. "Is that chair okay?" Holmes asked, taking Watson by surprise,

"fine, thanks" Watson replied, sounding confused and a little more like himself,

"you keep stretching, have you got joint problems?" Holmes smiled at this,

"no" Watson couldn't help smiling too, then he sighed "me and Mary have had a few fights, I had to sleep on the sofa last night" he explained, Holmes nodded, he'd thought as much. "Still how many couples haven't had a few arguments?" Watson smiled, shaking his head and rubbing his tired looking eyes. "How many indeed" Holmes sighed, not looking at Watson.

"Maybe you should get back" Holmes told him after a while, guessing he was probably the main topic of these arguments. "I should" Watson considered "but…" Holmes looked at him. "This is an important case I'm sure Mary would understand." Holmes didn't think she would but allowed Watson his little dream, where Himself and Mary actually got on.

"It's been almost two days since we last found the body" Watson thought allowed, rifealing through his notes. He thanked James for the tea he'd brought them, Holmes gave the young boy a 'what did I tell you look'. James smiled before hurrying back down the stairs. "You know I rather like that boy" Holmes smiled, Watson shook his head laughing lightly,

"don't laugh" Holmes smirked "you'll have kids soon," Watson shook his head,

"no I wont, Mary can't have kids, some rideing accedent when she was ten apparently"

"sorry" Holmes appolagised, looking guiltily at the floor.

"Never mind" Watson stood up, "how's your friend?"

"What Edward?" Holmes sighed "he's been missing for two days, ever since I brought him the news, his wife hasn't seen him since then either"

"you don't think…." Watson began,

"oh come, come Watson" Holmes shook his head "His daughter just died, he'll turn up you know what people are like."

"Mr Holmes!" Miss Hudson span into the room, where the two men were just dropping off.

"What is it?" Watson yawned, getting unsteadily to his feet and reaching for his cane.

"Another body sir, found it at about half past midnight!" Miss Hudson, sounded mad with hysterics. "Come on Holmes" Watson sighed, prodding him with his cane.

"A hotel?" Watson and Holmes looked at each other, the police were patrolling the area, hopeing to do what Holmes didn't know. "Who is it?" He called across to the inspector as they passed him in the hall. "It's Sir Fredricks" The Inspecter told him, proceeding down the hall. Holmes stopped, Watson looked at him. "Three days between murders, in which another victem is held hostage, who found him?" Holmes spun round to face one of the chambre maids, "Anne sir" she told him, her voice shaking, "we heard screaming about midnight and she went up to see what it was."

"They're all killed at the start of the third day at midnight, Alice was found three days after her dissaperence with her pocket watch smashed at five past twelve." Holmes pushed into the hotel room, then retracted again, holding his nose.

The stench of blood was unbelievable, and the volume of it on the carpet and walls. Watson moved in before him, winsing slightly but continuing towards the bed, where the victem had been bowned with handcuffs. The front of his body had been sliced away all the way down to his bare waist. Watson bent down examing the body carefully, taking out his bag and taking samples. "How do we know who he was?" Holmes asked the inspector, his back turned from the hotel room where Watson was working. "We got his wife to identify a broach we found here"

"you didn't show her the body did you!?" Holmes demanded,

"of course not Holmes!" The Inspector snapped "one of the officers took it to her and broke the news." He let out a sigh of relief, dareing another look into the room. "How long's that going to take Watson?" He called,

"Almost done" Watson called back, his voice slightly muffled most likely because of the thinkness of the taste of blood surrounding him.

Watson emerged ten minuets later, allowing the inspector and his team to take the body away. "Found this beside him," Watson handed Holmes a single pearl earing.

"Good Watson" Holmes grinned, taking the earing from him and studying it carefully, "anything else?"

"Signs of sexual activaty before death, that and half his body's been stript to the bone"

Holmes groaned turning a little pale, Watson hurried to steady him, "sorry" he appolagised, "do you want to go and see his wife yourself?"

"no" Holmes hurridly replied, getting back onto his own feet.

"Holmes I can't help but notice that so far the only thing linking these murders is you?" Watson voiced. Holmes sighed, turning his face from the herse's window, "Watson I havn't told you everything about this case" he admitted,

"well that's nothing new" Watson dismissed,

"this is something really important,"Holmes leaned forward in the carrage so the driver couldn't here them. "Before I met you Watson, I was married for a short amount of time, five years to be presise, and to date five years since, some sort of anniversary no doubt." Watson watched Holmes carefully, unsure whether to believe this story or not. "The necklace it was a family heirloom and the earing's I gave them to her, this was one of them," he pulled out the earing that Watson had given him, "she'll of got her next victem by now this is all about injuring me"

"Any idea who she'll of gone after?" Watson asked, Holmes shrugged,

"that's just it, the last two I hadn't seen almost as long as I haven't seen her, so it could even be people I've lost contact with."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Holmes pulled open the door to his house, glancing quickly through the letters and paper. He paused when he came to an unmarked envelope with no stamp, opening it carefully. "You need a woman's touch" Watson read aloud over his shoulder, Holmes chuckled at crumpled the note in his hand, chucking it in amongst the rest of the mess in the house. "Sir is that you?" James creapt slowly from the kitchen a small pan in his hand. "Of course it is" Holmes told him, "what's that pan for?" Holmes went chalk white as he spoke the words. "Who was taken? What am I saying!? Where's Miss Hudson?"

"Two men came and took her away, I recignised them from the slums, gentlemen hire them to do their dirty work." Holmes leapt up the stairs "We've got exactly two days, eighteen hours and twenty one minuets to find her!"

"Holmes" Watson called up after him,

"what!?" Holmes reappeared, his hair matted and eyes wide,

"I need to get back…" Watson began,

"Go then!" Holmes snapped "I can see a person's life may depend on it, but go on see that your reuined marriage lasts a few days longer!" Watson's whole expression changed, James moved back into the kitchen hurridly.

"I don't run away from my responsibilities!" Watson replied his voice dangourusly low, Holmes gave a manical fake laugh, "What do you mean by that!?"

"Who left who then, with your wife, did you make an effort, did you bring her flowers, take her out from time to time, because by God! I bet you didn't." Holmes froze, his dark hair curling round his eyes, that had turned cold with his friend's words. "Get out" he whispered, Watson didn't move, "Get out!" Holmes bellowed at him. Watson nodded stifly and pulled himself back through the door.

Holmes kicked the banister on his way up the stairs. He'd been fair, he'd sent Watson back to that hell case more times than one, he'd even refrained from sending daily annoying messages as he used too. Didn't he understand, someone's life was in danger, someone they knew and who'd taken care of the house even when he was living in it.

"It's okay James" Holmes felt he should say something to the boy. James peered slowly round the corner, tears in his eyes. "Are they going to kill her?"

"Not if I find her first" Holmes promised, "now be a good boy and go to bed, I need to think," James nodded obediently, but before he went he turned, "that factory where the first body was used to be a block of slums." Holmes' eyes widened, before James had even shut the door Holmes was in his office, pulling out a map and marking where the bodies had been found. "That was where we snuck off to when we first met" Holmes whispered to himself, pointing at the factory, "and that" he moved his finger to the hotel "is where we spent out honey moon." He sat back thinking carefully, "then we came here, the next body will turn up here!" Holmes felt a sudden urge to run to Watson's and bang on the door, then he remembered they were angry at each other and sat back down again.

Holmes sat in his chair and waited, he'd made sure to keep James in the room too as he suspected her to have her eye on him at some point, but who'd be the last, maybe he was intended to be the last.

"Aren't you tired?" James asked, in the early hours of the next morning, Holmes smiled at him, "a little" he admitted, "but I can't let her sneak in at any point, it happens tonight." James swallowed, he didn't need to be an adult to understand what Holmes meant. James jumped at a sudden flash of forked lightning outside, shivering as the rain drummed heavily against the window. "It's going to be a rouge night" Holmes sighed checking the clock on his wall. Still eleven in the morning, maybe it would be better in a few hours.

The rain did not get better, if anything the storm outside got worse. Holmes was just about dropping off when he heard a crash from outside. "James wait here and yell if anyone comes in" Holmes nodded, moving across the room to the window, looking out on the roofs below. A shadow moved below. Without thinking (very unlike him) he threw himself out of the window onto a low roof then onto the ground. The street was empty, it was then it dawned on him. "Sir!" A yell from the top window, he knew he couldn't clime back up the roofs so sprinted to the front door, pulling it open. He heard the wind slam it shut behind him. "James who is it!?" He shouted as he ran, there was no reply, he'd left the window open.

Who knew they were gone long before he reached the door. Miss Hudson's head hung from the door, the letters J.H embedded in the door below her, the last earring fastened to Miss Hudson's bloody ear. James was gone.

A knock on the door ran throughout the entire house. Holmes closed his eyes, breathing in deeply. The knock rang out again and again, a nauseating feeling washing over him as he slowly went down the stairs to answer it. Watson stood on the door step, fully dressed with his hat, coat and cane all with him. The lightning highlighting his cold face against the dark of the night. Holmes struck out a fist and punched him, Watson recovered quickly striking out at Holmes' shins with his cane. The door slammed behind him, as Holmes' grabbed his collar pulling him forward into the banister. A sickening crunch emitted as no doubt Watson put up his arm to defend himself from the blow. He swung round, squarely catching Holmes in the jaw. Holmes recovered kneeing Watson in the stomach, Watson struck back shoving Holmes into a wall, in retaliation he felt himself fall against the stairs, getting quickly back to his feet before Holmes could strike him again, he slid a foot under his, sending his friend this time spiralling into the stairs. Holmes shot up the stairs, dodging Watson's blows from his cane, finally throwing Watson through the door of his office, but not before he'd allowed Watson to see the front where the head hung.

Holmes put out his fist this time catching Watson's nose, the two looked at each other a moment before collapsing down where they stood. "God I must be unbearable to live with" Watson sighed, his doctor instincts kicking in as he observed the thin trail of blood down one side of Holmes' head and his hand cradling his ribs. "That's not true" Holmes smiled weakly, looking Watson up and down; he'd done a fair bit of damage, Watson's nose was definitely broken, blood dripped down to his chin, he'd struck his head pretty badly against the stair too. "James is gone" Watson looked away from Holmes guiltily. Holmes nodded, he grimaced as he heard Watson's nose crack again as the doctor snapped it back into place.

"I'm sorry for the way I behaved" Watson apologised,

"I'm the one who started it" Holmes laughed, taking out his handkerchief and mopping away the blood on his head, he saw Watson do the same with his nose. "You hurt yourself?" He asked, Watson looked at him as though this was a trick question. "I mean your head, there's a scab on the side, I saw it when I drove you into that wall?" Watson sighed, glancing anywhere but at Holmes. "Me and Mary had a fight" he admitted,

"you didn't hit her did you!?" Holmes looked taken aback,

"be serious Holmes of course I didn't, she just got a little over excited with the fire poker"

Holmes winced at the thought.

The Thunder still rumbled outside. "I'll stay here for a bit" Watson thought aloud, "let her calm down." Holmes nodded slowly, he had a feeling Watson would be back here permanently before long.

"He's going to die" Holmes sighed "and there's nothing I can do about it." Watson pulled his way painfully over to sit next to Holmes. "We'll look, where do you think the murder will take place?" Watson asked,

"the front door step" Holmes replied, Watson looked at him in confusion. "It's all the places we had sex and in what order" Holmes sighed,

"you mean you only had sex five times?" Watson contemplated, Holmes glared at him, then realised Watson was joking. "So where's the last one going to be?"

"The hotel across the river, it's where we tried to pull it back together when things fell apart"

"and who?" Watson checked, picking up Holmes' contact book, and skimming through it.

"Might even be me" Holmes suggested, "finish it off where it ended," he laughed bitterly at himself.

Watson stayed round the house swapping shifts with Holmes on watching the front door step. On the second day Watson received a message from Mary informing him to get back to the house now. "Go on" Holmes encouraged, "just end it if you have too." Watson nodded slowly, letting the moment sink in before nodding to Holmes and leaving.

Watson returned around ten that evening to take over from Holmes' watch. A slow trail of blood curving round his face. "It's over" he told Holmes carefully. Holmes didn't say anything, he just nodded. The clock chimed bang on twelve, and at that moment a hooded figure deposited something on the front door step. "Holmes!" Watson called, but Holmes had already leapt over the deposited thing and set after the man. Watson hurried down the stairs, bending down by the body. "Sir?" The little boy choked back tears, Watson gasped as he examined him, the boy's arms had been cut off at the joint, blood still emitting from the stumps. "Am I going to die?" James asked, his eyes full of fear, for a moment Watson felt like lying to the boy but couldn't bring himself to do it. "Yes" he replied, James blinked back tears, no doubt trying to tell the places where his arms had been to wipe them away. "I'll be with mum and dad and my little brother" he told himself, giving a small smile to Watson, before his eyes emptied. Watson reached out his fingers and closed them, "I'm sorry" he sighed, then everything went dark.

"Missed him." Holmes came pouting back to the house, the body was still lying there, a small smile on the boy's lips. "Watson?" Holmes called inside the house, picking up Watson's cane from the ground next to the boy. A cold fear ran up his spine. "Watson!?" Holmes bellowed inside the house, no reply.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Watson felt himself coming too. "Where am I?" He began to murmur, opening his eyes too quickly, everything blurring out of shape. "Are you okay?" A gentle female voice asked, a soft hand stroking his forehead. "Fine I think" Watson replied, squinting, trying to get a look at the girl. "I saw two men dump your body outside, probably thinking they'd finished you off." Watson remembered the knock on the head and groaned, "Holmes?"

"He's okay my servants informed him of your whereabouts, he's given you a few days off to recover."

"How bad is it?" He asked, lifting a hand to bring it up to his head.

"Worse than it looks, you were muttering all sorts of things in your sleep, you've got concussion," Watson sighed, his vision clearing; he could now see the girl and the room. It looked faintly like a hotel room, to clean to be one from a house, and the girl, she was beautiful. Her dark hair, framing her face perfectly, blue eyes looking into his.

"What are we doing here?" Watson asked, blinking at her, still a little dazed. She didn't reply, she leant towards him, Watson felt himself do much the same; what with Mary and all the stress he just felt he should.

Holmes ran a hand through his hair, shocking himself hadn't worked. He couldn't remember the hotel's name, let alone the room number. "Think, think" he muttered to himself, pacing back and forth, pausing only to check the time: 12:30pm. Watson died in thirty five and a half hours. Holmes dived on his safe, twisting the safe's lock hurriedly, pulling out everything that could be useful: Old photo's, diary's, anything.

Watson knew what was coming next. His head had cleared quickly, long before the kiss and much before the sex, but if he was going to go, he might as well do something first. Now he found himself with one hand cuffed to a long metal pipe, while Jane rummaged around with some more metal heating it to fix it into place on the main pipe. She shoved three of the attached pipes down Watson's shirt: two down his arms and one down his back, another against the back of his head. She grasped his free wrist in her small hands; cuffing it to the other one.

"You've got a lot of those handcuff things?" Watson observed, pulling against them in a reflex way, in his body's attempt to pull away from the hard metal pipe jammed behind his back. "I know a lot of friendly policemen" Jane smiled,

"Holmes told me you were a lady of some sort?" Watson looked puzzled at her comment,

"So I am" Jane agreed "but that doesn't stop me getting lonely." She smiled, running her hand through Watson's hair. "So you're the friend he'd rather solve crime with than me?"

Watson stayed silent. "The girl, his friend, the house keeper, the boy and his good friend" she listed, "all in an order, of who he was closest too. It was quite hard really, Sherlock doesn't usually trust people." It was rare Watson ever heard anyone call Holmes by his first name. "At Midnight tomorrow they send heat through this pipe to the kitchen downstairs, you'll pretty much be burned alive, slowly." Watson felt a little bit sick, he was going to go like the others, suffering as much as possible first.

Holmes sighed, throwing more photos against the opposite wall, nothing, and less than twenty four hours to go. Finally he pulled out a photo, showing himself and Jane outside a posh hotel near the river, pulling out his magnifineglass he studied the image carefully. The words 'River Hotel' embroided on the side of the building, he'd just have to find out the room number when he got there.

He knew he couldn't walk to the hotel and no cabs would be around till at least five that morning so sat down to wait.

Watson ignored the rumble of his stomach again; he hadn't eaten in almost four days, and even staying conscious was becoming harder. Jane had watched him for hours, collecting food downstairs and eating it in front of him.

"What are you going to do after this?" Watson couldn't help but ask, Jane looked a little sad then. "I'm going to kill myself, then Holmes will find us dead together and he'll of lost everything, that's much better than killing him." Watson pictured Holmes with no one to pull him out of that dark room of his, or remind him to eat and go to sleep, speaking of which when was the last time Holmes fell asleep in the last week!?

The cab ride had taken four hours, so when he arrived it was about midday. Holmes strolled boldly up to the hotel door and onto the front desk. "Do you have a miss Holmes staying here (Jane had kept her new surname after the divorce). A man checked a file and shook his head, "sorry sir" he apolagised, Holmes let a thin breath through his teeth, it had been worth a try, now all he could do was search every room.

Watson drew in breath, it was dark outside now; there was no clock in the room so he didn't know the time, but he knew his hours were numbered. Jane fingered the gun in her hand; she planned to go quickly, once he was dead. "Lucky you" was how Watson had commented she when she told him. "Sorry." Watson lifted his tired head, at the faint words, then they were repeated again a little closer. "Holmes!" Watson shouted, before Jane could even look up. There was a pause, then the door flew open. Jane and Holmes stared at each other a moment, each unsure what to do next, clearly neither expected to meet the other face to face on this case. Watson felt the pipes grow a little warmer, Holmes turned towards Watson, then glanced at his pocket watch: middnight. It had already begun. "What are you doing?" He glanced at the gun quickly in Jane's hands. "The pipes will burn him slowly" she informed him, raising the gun to her head, "goodbye Holmes." Watson and Holmes turned away as the shot rang out, Jane closed her eyes slowly.

Holmes bent down beside her, he kissed her briefly then felt in her handbag. "No keys?" he turned to Watson, Watson fought back to remember. "She threw them out the window into the river," Holmes groaned, pulling out his sachell with the different metal instruments that usually undid locks. He rushed over to Watson when he'd found the one he wanted. Moving it around in the cuff's lock. Watson let out a breath of pain as he felt his body burn slightly, Holmes gave him a hurried look and worked faster. There was a clang as one cuff came away. Watson pulled away from the burning rod against his head, struggling to unwined himself from the other three, finaly hearing his shirt rip as he got away from the one against his back. Holmes undid the last lock and he pulled away from the last two.

"That looks nasty" Holmes commented, checking out Watson's back, where a shiny red mark was appearing where the pole had been.

"I'm sorry" Watson appologised, indicating Jane. There was a pause, Holmes stared at Watson in an unbelieving sort of way. "As we speak, if she had had her own way you'd be dead and you still apologise?"

"Sorry" the words were out of his mouth again before he could stop them. Both men burst out laughing; it seemed a strang thing to do, in the situation, but after all that stress and hurt finaly being over, they couldn't help it.


End file.
